Renny, Long Tom and Ham moved stealthily through
the tunnels. They had left their escort back at a central cavern,
from which branched several tunnels. Most of the tunnels were
filled with gas by now. Many had the bodies of men -- some buried
by cascading rock -- others obviously trapped and killed by the seeping
gas.

They worked their way eastward, marking passages
as they went so that they could find their way back. They
conversed by way of compact amplifying devices built into the breathing
apparatus. Earlier editions of these devices had had no such
refinements. They had had to 'talk' by utilizing the deaf and dumb
sign language. Since this often led to difficulties in
communication, Doc had developed the miniaturized amplifying devices
these newer models contained.

"Did you see the stuff in that last
cubbyhole?" muttered Long Tom. "These caves have been
used by men for years -- centuries! Some of that gear was a
hundred years old!"

"At least!" snorted Renny. "I
thought you said these hills were off-limits to the peasants!"

"So we were led to believe in the
village," interjected Ham. "I wish Johnny were here --
he could tell us if these artifacts are local or imported. My own
theory is that the local people don't come here...this stuff all belong
s to people who have used these caves for invasion or espionage
purposes!"

"Then why hasn't the country been invaded in
the past several hundred years? Aldean rule is at least five
hundred yeas old!" rumbled Renny.

"I don't know. I think
maybe Doc has an idea, but he's not saying till he's sure,"
muttered Ham. "Which, of course, leaves us pretty much in the
dark...as usual!"

"Look at it this
way," philosophized Long Tom, "A little mystery keeps life
interesting!"

They moved deeper into
the tunnels, going through areas where the air was still pure; pockets
of fresh air created by erratic drafts in the surrounding gas.

Suddenly, a movement
ahead of them in the cavern caught their attention. Their lights
picked up the terrified face of a man. He scuttled backward into
the dark cave, screeching as he went.

"They've been
trapped down here all last night and today," suggested Ham.
"Their minds are probably close to snapping! And...look at
us! With this gear on, we probably look like phantoms and demons
in the flash's light! Did you hear what he screamed?"

"I can speak some of
the area language, but the local dialect generally loses me,"
muttered Long Tom.

"He said...'wŁtrich!'...that's
'monster'!" explained Renny.

"More accurately,
'bloodthirsty monster'," Ham corrected him. "He thinks
we're werewolves or vampires...or worse! At least, since he's
alive and kicking -- or should I say running? -- the air in here is
O.K. Should we take off the devices?"

"No!" said
Renny, as he eyed the cavern walls. "There's no telling when
the gas will penetrate here. We're safer this way -- even if it
gives those guys the 'willies'!"

"He went down this
way," Long Tom offered, flashing his beam down an offshoot of the
tunnel they were traversing.

His light picked out a
group of men huddled in a rubble-blocked tunnel. They were
obviously terrified. One nervously aimed a gun in the direction of
the light.

The babble of foreign
sounds reverberating in the closeness of the cave only tipped the cup of
the gun-man's terror over! He fired wildly at the approaching
figures!

"Holy cow! Run
for it! They're nuts!" The three men turned and charged
back through the tunnels. They could hear the men screaming in hot
pursuit of the 'demons' they had 'scared off'.

"Renny," gasped
Ham, "Shouldn't we..."

"We should run like
Hell!" roared Renny. "When they hit a gas pocket with
those weapons firing, this cavern is gonna go 'BLOOEY'!"

Suddenly, behind them,
there was a great flash. A cataclysm of sound and rushing air and
debris threw them forward, battering them nearly senseless against the
walls of the tunnel.

They weakly picked
themselves up. The floor of the cavern was shaking.

"RUN!" yelled
Renny. "Everything's coming down!"

They ran! They had
almost made it back to the central cavern where the Aldean servants
waited when the tunnel around them collapsed!

* * * * *

The Countess had quietly
cleaned up after the departing three men, ringing for the servant girls
to take away the remains of their repast. She then proceeded to
gather up Doc's soiled clothing which his men had discarded in a
corner. It was in pretty poor condition. She curiously
extracted a number of vials and containers from padded pockets.

Johnny took charge of
these, explaining some of their uses.

"It would seem Clark
is usually prepared for anything!" smiled the Countess, her eyes
widening at the suggested uses of some of the implements.

"There's only one
thing that's every thrown him for a loop!" murmured Johnny.

"And that...?"

"Is you!"
His eyes were accusing -- almost as if he blamed her for the bronze
man's present condition.

She stared at him, and it
was as if a veil had suddenly been drawn from her eyes. Johnny all
but reeled from the impact of the emotion he saw there! It was a
timeless, haunting, devastating, consuming love. She drew the
emotional veil -- once again shielding her soul. "And that is
what he has done to me!" she whispered. "No man has
ever, ever done to me what he has done!"

She turned from him and
walked to a shadowed corner of the room.

Johnny let her go, and
sank wearily back into a large chair near Doc's bed. He had been
two days and a night and a half without sleep, and it was beginning to
wear on him. The tension of the situation had eaten up the
normally large reserves of energy that, under normal circumstances,
would have kept him going for another day before exhaustion would have
claimed him.

Monk had fallen asleep on
the couch, and both Johnny and the Countess had deemed it good to let
him get some rest. He had given Doc more of his blood than he
could really afford without some debilitating side-effects.

Johnny's eyelids
drooped. He jerked himself awake. He dared not fall asleep
tonight!!

The Countess was
apparently examining something else she had found in Doc's
clothing. She looked up and saw Johnny's predicament. She
rose and crossed to him.

"Professor
Littlejohn, get some sleep. I will keep watch and call you if
anything untoward happens."

"But...you...don't
know..."

She touched a finger to
his forehead and said..."Sleep".

Blackness, like soft,
ebon velvet, swallowed him.

She gazed for a moment at
the two sleeping men, and smiled a soft, sad smile. She turned and
glided to the bed.

"Now, beloved, it is
our time," she whispered.

The golden eyes of Doc
Savage fluttered open. Had her will called him back to
consciousness? He watched dreamily as her soft, white hands began
to undo a bandage that swathed his neck.

Suddenly, her eyes
widened in terror, and she shrank away from him.

Something was dreadfully
wrong! He touched the bandage and was aware of something
warm. It was a tiny chain with a talisman -- a cross, his
sensitive fingers told him -- that had been entwined in the dressing.

A cross? Warm to
his touch? The woman he loved shrinking away from it in horror?!

The hot light of
understanding flamed in his eyes and a trilling filled the room.
It was trilling such as the world had never heard before! It held
no joyous notes -- only profound knowledge...and a pervading
sadness. His expression begged her to refute the knowledge he had
gained.

His hand closed around
the cross. It was warm to his touch, but not uncomfortably so.

She spoke no work -- her
eyes said all. "Take that off and we may be one -- throughout
eternity! Retain it -- and what we had can never again be!"

She could command him to
remove it and he would have to obey...he knew this! WOULD she
command him..."

She dropped her
eyes. No...the choice was his.

She did, however, have
one last ace to play. She raised her eyes once again and Doc saw
mirrored there the cosmic love for him that had forced her to do what
she had done.

His lips tightened to a
fine, almost imperceptive line as his eyes closed.

Suddenly, the whole room
shook! Great rumblings filled the night air.

Monk and Johnny snapped
awake and rushed to the curtained window. Pulling aside the heavy
draperies, they looked out.

The two raced across the
room, through the door and down the stairs. the Countess moved to
get out of their way. She followed them to the head of the stairs,
and watched as they disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.
She returned to the shadowed room.

Her eyes widened as she
saw Doc Savage's outflung arm. In his hand was the remains of the
neck-bandage and a broken silver chain. The cross was nowhere to
be seen.

Her way to him was clear
now! "But...why?" she mused. Had he accidentally
broken the chain when returning unconsciousness claimed him...or had he
chosen to give himself to her deadly embrace?!

Did it matter? He
was hers now. Her lips brushed his and traveled across his cheek
to the pulsing life-stream in his throat. She paused a moment
above the tiny wounds she had made twice before.

Doc's eyes flickered open
briefly, then closed...as a deeper unconsciousness claimed him.
His exhaled breath formed two whispered words.

She hesitated a moment,
then her eyes flashed fire as the tiny, sharp canine teeth pushed
against his jugular.